


Pieces of Return

by Yunimori



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Hurt, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 04:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21173429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yunimori/pseuds/Yunimori
Summary: Being an emotionless monster, The Scientist, for millions of years has taken its toll on Shockwave now that he has been restored to his former mental state. Sitting in prison in the middle of Metroplex is a mild punishment in comparison to what he feels he deserves. It is nowhere near as rough as the punishment of losing his Endura, however, and Shockwave knows full well that Optimus Prime, once Orion Pax, is lost to him forever. He was too much of a monster for Optimus to ever forgive him.  And even if Optimus did forgive him, it would be too much to ask for Optimus to come back to him...wouldn't it?





	Pieces of Return

**Author's Note:**

> I'm copying all of my Shockwave and Optimus/Shockwave ficlets and drabbles from my tumblr accounts over to my ao3 account. Most of these are going to be incredibly short (hence the drabble tag), and either in short-form format or 100 Themes Challenge format.
> 
> This is just for my own peace of mind, making sure they are safe from tumblr's random purges.
> 
> However, feel free to read them and let me know if you enjoyed them!

Skyfire had held true to his word, getting the message to Optimus, even though Shockwave had held little hope of it producing any sort of result. He had no right to hope, after all; not after six million years of being a monster working for the other side, working for the darkness. How could Optimus, even as blessedly kind and fair as Shockwave knew him to be, ever see fit to give that monster the time of day, message of desperate apology or not?

Yet somehow he had. He’d seen fit to not only give Shockwave the time of day, but came to _see_ him in his prison cell. Came to eventually hold him, to cry with him in the tearless, aching way that Op tended to cry, to forgive him…

…to call him Bug and tell him he loved him.

Yet, even with all that, Shockwave had not completely broken until Op had had to leave. Tripwire had done all he could, but visiting hours at the prison were all too short, and even the Prime couldn’t bend the rules _too _far.

Shockwave had watched Op walk out of sight, had stared at his retreating back through the blue-tinted shield that covered the front wall of his cell, until he and the young guard had vanished out of the cell block. He knew then that Op couldn’t hear him, and from his cold, hard bed, Shockwave cried the only way available to him; through soft sound.

Watching Optimus walk away, even with the promise of returning, had been more than his spark, already aching, could bear. With the closing of the cell block door, Shockwave’s busted speaker had crackled to life, soft, agonized keens echoing around the thick walls of his tiny cell. He could not cry; an Empurata-mask for a head did not allow for tears any more than it allowed for eating, did not allow for emotion-expressing in almost _any_ form. His speaker had simply broken from the force of his emotions, and now was no exception; it crackled and stuttered as Shockwave released his grief the best he could, soft cries becoming haunting and even more painful with the static and the audible pain from a raw, tortured throat. 

He did not sleep that night. He had promised Op that he would try to rest, and he _did_ try, but every few minutes, his weary mind would return to the image of his beloved Endura walking away from him and the ache would begin anew. It kept him up, whispers of sound making it through his speaker despite his best efforts, making the prisoners down the hall curse him whenever the soft sounds reached them, waking someone up. He apologised through his pain until his voice disappeared entirely, leaving him to simply sit against his bed, rocking slightly with the crushing agony in his chest as his spark cried out from loss and love_, _and he did not sleep.

He could not speak the next day; not even a crackle made its way through his speaker, his throat was so raw from being unable to release his grief properly. He was silent during his work, the back-breaking labour of breaking stones to be fed into the cement grinders only adding to the bruises he carried from a different set of stones, the ones that had been thrown at him a few days prior. The pain gave him a welcome distraction from his grief, however, and the labour was welcome, though he was barely able to move once the day was done and he was escorted back to his cell. 

One would think that Shockwave would have been able to sleep _then_, as weary as he was. However, with the settling of the night, the quiet did nothing to keep his mind busy, and so the mental image welled again, starting the cycle of grief and pain anew. At least this second night he was able to remain silent, disturbing no one but himself as he sat on his hard bed, rocking once more through the night, pressing his hand to his chest in a near-futile effort to keep his aching, lonely spark from beating out of his chest.

Day three saw Shockwave quiet once more; he was able to speak again, if in stutters and through static, but he had little desire to. He was left in his cell, left to his own devices, and his mind was not very good company at the moment, despite his weary mantra of Op’s promise to return, trying to give himself any sort of hope that left him staring blankly at nothing, buried deep in his own thoughts.

So it was a complete surprise when he heard the shield go down from the front of his cell, the soft whine of a live blaster being trained on him to keep him from bolting as a visitor stepped into his cell. 

He refocused, vision returning blearily to let him see the familiar blue and red bot that was already moving toward him.

It was only his spark leaping to his throat that kept Shockwave from crying out louder than a whisper as he bolted from the bed, heedless of the prison guard’s blaster, to stumble into Optimus’s waiting arms, his own going weakly around his Endura as he shook, relief making him sag as much as weariness. Warm arms enfolded him, Optimus bending to Shockwave’s level and holding him tenderly as Shockwave pressed his head against his precious Endura.

“You came b…b…back.”


End file.
